


Scar Tissue

by abscontrix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, F/F, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Healing Sex, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Magic, Magic dick, Metamorphmagus, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sex, Sex Magic, Shame, Smut, Switching, Transification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscontrix/pseuds/abscontrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ‘mudblood’ scar on her arm had never faded.</p><p>(smut, feels, BDSM healing)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar Tissue

The ‘mudblood’ scar on her arm had never faded.

It was on the arm she’d always rubbed when she was nervous. She had been too stubborn to give up the habit, though she squeezed it gently, the firm pressure like a hug for herself, when the scars had been too raw to touch. They had been too raw to touch for a long time. Hermione had been too raw to touch for a long time.

Ron had remained [palely] steady for her, a rock which she could beat herself against when the pain was too much; he remained, warm and solid, when she was cold to him and withdrew to a more private agony. Ron’s sweet, clumsy love had held, and his softness made her softer. Time made her scars softer, Bellatrix’s spiky handwriting standing out less and less sharply. It had been three years, and she had yet to wear short sleeves.

There was a part of her that Ron couldn’t touch, for all that her partner tried. Hermione was still hard underneath, and she felt as though she had ice at her center. Bellatrix has extinguished part of her spark, that part that believed that she, Hermione, individually, would survive unscathed; that the world made a sort of fundamental sense, even if you had to work hard and kind of force it into a semblance of fairness. But now she really understood that wasn’t true. Hermione had burned less brightly since the night at the Malfoys’ mansion, and her partner couldn’t really help flare her up.

Which was why she was here. She took a deep breath; she hadn’t been this nervous since … probably sometime in Hogwarts. The swarms of butterflies in her stomach felt more like fighting grindylows. She shook her head to dismiss the thought, squared her shoulders, and knocked on Nymphadora Tonk’s door.

~~~

Tonks’ breath was hot on Hermione’s fingertips. She couldn’t see, of course; Tonks had blindfolded her, as she had every time before. When Hermione had protested the first time, Tonks had just grinned and said something about “I want to make sure you’re enjoying the sensation and not just looking down my shirt.” Honestly, Hermione appreciated the blindfold, and the soft silk ropes that tied her wrists comfortably to the headboard. This way, she couldn’t worry about making eye contact, or getting distracted by something fascinating in Tonks’ room, or if she was making stupid faces. There was what Tonks was making her feel, and there was nothing else. It was a much simpler world than the one Hermione usually inhabited. It was the deep, black relief of another experience with Tonks.

Hermione felt Tonks’ tongue slide across the pad of her thumb, finishing with a swirling motion around her fingertip. Hermione’s breathing was already running ragged; when Tonks took it slow like this, every lick, brush, pinch was magnified. More hot breath, then Tonks lapped at the next fingertip, firm and even and moist. 

Had anyone been this focused on her body since Bellatrix?

Hermione tried not to whimper, shifting her legs to rub together as she imagined what Tonks’ tongue would feel like against her clit. Tonks’ weight withdrew, and Hermione felt a sharp smack on her thigh. “Legs apart, Hermione. You know better.” Hermione reluctantly spread her knees, and Tonks gave her another stinging slap inside her thigh. The air nearly rushed out of Hermione; the anticipation, mixed with these perfect stimuli, had her already wet and near desperate. She struggled to keep her legs spread, to keep obeying. She had asked for this, agreed to it. She mustn’t fight back this time.

Tonks bit down on the flesh of Hermione’s next fingertip, dragging her teeth across every fingerprint ridge. Hermione imagined Tonks’ teeth on her tight nipples, and shifted again; maybe she could get some pressure on her aching clit without closing her legs….

Tonks’ hand slapped Hermione’s inner thigh again, higher up and harder. Her hips jerked of their own accord, trying to follow the delicious sensation. Tonks pinned her hips down with a hard hand to Hermione’s lower stomach and slapped the other thigh, even harder. “Am I going to have to tie you down?”

Hermione whimpered in pleasure at the thought. Her wrists were already bound, but to be spread open like that would be so… vulnerable. Even Bellatrix had merely pinned her down, leering down at Hermione as she carved, letting her struggle, wanting it. Hermione took a deep breath attempted to follow orders, to relax, and held herself still even when Tonks’ next blow landed squarely between her legs, jolting her clit with a dazzling burst of pressure. Her breathing had a bit of a sob around the edges of each exhale, and she heard Tonks chuckle before the weight shifted on the bed again.

Tonks licked down the length of one of Hermione’s untouched fingers, the sensitive nerves inside Hermione’s hand sending off sparks inside her head. The air cooled the skin and Tonks blew against it, warm for a moment. It was comforting, somehow, and Hermione tried to take a deep breath and brace herself for what was coming. (Early on, when they’d first started this, Tonks had started on the off hand, worked across all ten fingertips before getting near the scarred arm. Hermione was glad that Tonks had sped up the process, because the anticipation was usually killing her at the end of five fingers’ loving treatment.)

To Hermione’s surprise, Tonks skipped the last finger entirely, breathing hot on Hermione’s wrist before rubbing her lower lip up the delicate skin. Hermione felt her shoulders tighten; this was faster than usual. She realized that it felt okay, though, and forced them to relax. Tonks chuckled again, kissing lightly around the hated word on Hermione’s arm. She blew on the scar lightly, and Hermione felt the hairs on her arm stand up; she shivered. Even after so many times with Tonks, it was still hard to let her near it. Tonks kissed each letter dryly and Hermione took deep, calming breaths. Her arousal had abated to a more manageable level, but as soon as she thought about that, she thought about what Tonks was going to do to her after she gave the deformity some attention. This was how it worked with Tonks: she pushed Hermione to be vulnerable, to soften to the core until the scar didn’t bother her anymore, or the word and all the hatred that it meant. Tonks had offered to help Hermione, and so she had, dark help, a dark pleasure.

Tonks kissed up and around the scar again, parting her lips slightly, even licking it lightly. Hermione could feel Tonks smile against her arm, lips parting, teeth pressed lightly against pale flesh. Tonks nipped lightly, pulling on the still-tight skin of the scars, and Hermione winced. At the same time, her hand was wandering across Hermione’s trembling thigh, rubbing in flat, warm strokes that aroused and comforted the girl in equal measure. As much as she wanted to tear her arm out of its bindings and hide it (and she still did, sometimes), she didn’t twist away; all of her focus was in not rutting against Tonks’ tantalizingly close hand. The immediacy of the need for pleasure pushed out the hatred of her body. That scar, so violent, so hateful, ceased to matter in these moments, and sometimes she was able to remember that, even outside of this room.

Tonks’ hand reached Hermione’s pubic hair, and ruffled it roughly. Hermione choked out a gasping half-laugh to be petted so, but the pressure against her clit was amazing, the sharp sound of palm on flesh. Tonks was merely stroking Hermione’s scar now, winding down, maybe preparing for the fun part? 

The hand that had petted Hermione slipped further down, fingertips just barely brushing the outside of Hermione’s labia. She was wet, of course, and Tonks spread a thin layer of natural lube around the very edges of Hermione’s sex. Hermione whimpered out loud; Tonks was so very close to her clit, and yet tauntingly out of reach.

Tonks withdrew, licking and biting Hermione’s still-aching nipples and continuing to lightly stroke her scar. Hermione couldn’t hold herself back from stimulating herself any longer, and she moaned as she crossed her legs and squirmed to get pressure on her clit. She was so wet, and so close, when -

Tonks was prying her legs apart again, and Hermione heard the quiet clinks and slides of the ankle cuffs. “Naughty.” Tonks’ voice carried a teasing tone that promised worlds to Hermione. The cool leather of the cuffs encircled one ankle, then another. Hermione was spread wide across the bed when Tonks slapped her inner thigh again. Hermione jolted; no use trying to hold still anymore. She squirmed and whined, her clit seeming to grow hot with desire as the flesh warmed and the second wave of the sting hit.

“I can see how wet you are, even for your punishment.” Tonks trailed a finger lightly along Hermione’s folds, ignoring the girl’s whimpers. Hermione felt Tonks’ hand catch hers, then their bare forearms pressed against each other; Tonks was leaning on her with one hand while she reached down to play with her with the other. The scar was against Tonks’ skin, but— who could think of that when— Hermione’s hips rose, trying to get more friction, but Tonks stayed teasingly away, fingertips stroking against her only enough to excite her, but not enough to satisfy.

The pad of Tonks’ thumb finally stroked hard enough to slide between Hermione’s slick folds, and Hermione felt like she might explode. Her hips bucked up, though whether to get Tonks inside her or against her clit, she didn’t know. Tonks’ finger went away and another slap landed, this time right between Hermione’s legs. It may as well have been lighting; Hermione cried out as the pleasure lit her up, whiting out even the sensation of the sheets under her, the pressure of Tonks’ arm on her scar.

“Behave, Mudblood.” Hermione tensed at the painful word, the cold tone, the feeling of Tonks pulling away. She felt tears seep out of the corner of her eyes, just a trickle, and she tried not to gasp. Tonks wasn’t saying it because she believed it, Hermione reminded herself; the Metamorphagus was half-Muggle herself. This was for Hermione. 

Hermione was suddenly angry, so angry that hearing this word made her so angry and scared, so angry at what had been done to her, to her friends, at what she’d done to her own family, at Bellatrix, at Voldemort. But none of the real villains were here, just Tonks; no one who wanted to really hurt her, just Tonks. Tonks, who had maybe just tipped Hermione over the edge. Hermione whispered a charm to slide her arms out of the cuffs, hoping that Tonks wouldn’t be looking at her, and ripped her blindfold off.

Tonks was smirking at the edge of the bed, nude and sporting an impressive hard-on framed by purple pubes that matched her hair. (One benefit of hooking up with a Metamorphagus.) Tonks pounced as Hermione tried to sit up, ankles still caught in the lower cuffs. Hermione fell back as Tonks landed on her, then braced hard on the bounce and - yes, effectively flipped Tonks back onto the bed, the older witch’s breath knocked out of her.

“Oh, you’re gonna earn it this time?” she taunted as Hermione, snake-quick, freed one ankle and caught one of Tonks’ wrists in the binding. Tonks’ free hand scratched and scrabbled to get a grip to push Hermione off, but she was having none of it. She had survived Bellatrix. She HAD earned it, and Tonks knew it, and now Hermione would take what was hers.

Instead of replying, Hermione let Tonks push her back a bit, freeing her unchained leg, and reversed direction to pin Tonks’ elbow under her knee. Tonks’ hand flailed uselessly, arm held in place by Hermione’s bodyweight, as Hermione freed her other ankle and strapped her former top down more securely.

Hermione glared down at her lover, who grinned guilelessly back up. Tonks wiggled her hips, probably bouncing her cock in invitation. “I guess you earned it.”

Hermione slapped her face, hard, and Tonks looked almost concerned for just a flicker of a second. Hermione liked it. She slapped Tonks again, smiled down, watched the burning flush from the hits start to form as Hermione positioned her lover’s face between her knees. Tonks opened her mouth to say something else but Hermione dropped her hips, smearing her wetness on Tonks’ face, and Tonks put her tongue to better work than talk.

Tonks licked Hermione deep, tongue running from just inside her, up along that sweet nerve, ending with a flick at Hermione’s angry clit. Hermione leaned forward, gripped the footboard for more leverage, and fucked against Tonks’ face. Hermione twisted a hand in the other witch’s purple tresses, bouncing her whole head against the aching nerve. Tonks licked greedily, cleverly, the tip of her tongue snaking up under Hermione’s clit hood to dazzle the nerve directly.

Hermione was just sobbing now, tears flowing freely as she rammed her hips down again, their fucking punctuated by the bed’s creaks and Hermione’s gasps and Tonks’ slurping. Something had been taken from Hermione before, some little part of her power. Maybe bottoming hadn’t been the way to get it back. Maybe facefucking Nymphadora Tonks was the way to get it back.

Tonks slurped and mashed, sucked and mouthed and licked, until Hermione’s wetness dripped along her chin, until the girl felt like she would split, screaming, swearing, and continuing to ride Tonks mercilessly. This was pleasure for every pain. This was too much, too much like Bellatrix had been too much, but so good, so good where Bellatrix had been so bad. Hermione was tingling, cumming freely and continuously, so beyond what her body usually wanted, her brain the engine driving this facefucking, jerking pubic bone against Tonks’ lip-covered teeth, hard on hard. Hermione threw her head back, the tiny part of her that was still conscious noting that it was a good thing she’d gotten the short haircut, because otherwise this humping would be unbearably hot. In the literal sense.

Tonks’ tongue slid away from Hermione’s clit, and the younger witch would have jerked her back into place by her hair if Tonks’ tongue hadn’t been dipping into Hermione’s hole, lengthening and thickening, almost seeming to pulse as she filled Hermione with what was surely a nonhuman tongue. That didn’t matter, though, when Tonks crooked the tip of it hard, hooking around Hermione’s pubic bone to hit her g-spot. Hermione sobbed again, lost in the slick and wet and fullness of it all, gone from whatever pain of her life in the sensation of fucking, angry that no one else took care of her like this, no one else took her away from what Bellatrix did to her. Hermione kept rutting until she stopped cumming, juices dripping all the way to Tonks’ neck now, full and dazed and boneless. As she finally ground to a halt, she felt Tonks lick up her clit a few more times, for good measure, and withdraw. Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply, backing her hips slightly off Tonks’ face.


End file.
